


Sweet Justice

by ThisWasntTaken



Series: Sweet Justice [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gabriel is fabulous, M/M, Right?, Sam is straight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 06:26:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasntTaken/pseuds/ThisWasntTaken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just took his LSAT and, stressing about the results, goes into a new cafe owned by an obnoxious, flamboyant guy that Sam comes to really like (and then some?).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Justice

When Sam was eighteen (really, when Sam was old enough to make his own decisions), he decided he wanted to go to Stanford (really, in the beginning it didn’t matter where, but he eventually figured out that John was unlikely to ever find himself in California). John told him that if he left, he should never come back, and Sam felt a pang at leaving Dean but he knew what he had to do. So he left, and that is how he found himself here.

 

Sam’s twenty-two now and just took his LSAT, and he’s hoping for a score good enough to get him into Stanford’s law program, because Sam has carved out a life here and he likes it, and he’s tired of moving when things start to be important to him—this, admittedly, takes longer now than when he was a kid, but it’s happened here and he doesn’t want to leave. Now that he’s taken his LSAT and can only anxiously await the results, he decides to go out alone, which totally isn’t lonely; shut up.

 

Sam happens upon a new sweets shop he’s heard good things about and decides to go in (feeling a twinge, even after all these years, when he thinks about how Dean would rag on him for getting cake instead of beer to celebrate, _Samantha_ ). He heads up to the counter and the man squatted behind it looks up—and up, and up—at him.

The man stands. “Jeez, Sasquatch, how’s the weather up there?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. I would ask how the weather is down there, but my crotch already knows,” he says, then adds, “I hit six foot at about fifteen; you’re going to have to be more creative than that.”

“I will work on it, Gigantor,” the man—Gabriel, his nametag reads—laughs. “And don’t underestimate the value of someone’s head being at the level of your crotch, handsome.” When Sam only sputters in response, Gabriel accepts the victory and asks, “What can I get you?”

“Anything to help with crushing anxiety?”

“What does Bigfoot have to be anxious about?”

“I took my LSAT yesterday, and I’m kind of freaking out.”

“I can imagine. You got ID?” Gabriel asks. Sam fumbles with his wallet and pulls out his ID, wondering why a sweets shop would card him. “Great. Then I have just the thing, Sammich. Have a seat and I’ll bring it to you.”

 

At this time of day—just before two thirty on a Thursday afternoon—the sweets shop that cards its customers is almost empty. Sam sits in a corner booth with a straight line of sight to the counter, though Gabriel has disappeared. Sam half-stares, half-daydreams, until Gabriel reappears, pulling Sam back to reality. He gives Sam what looks like a milkshake and a small cake, about the size of a fist.

“Super-secret, just-for-adults menu. This is a Guinness and chocolate milkshake, and this is a chocolate rum cake—extra-heavy on the rum,” Gabriel puts his finger to his mouth. “Don’t tell anyone.”

 

Though Gabriel is now resituated behind the counter, Sam finds him staring. Sam always stares when people try food he’s cooked, so he dismisses it and picks up his fork, getting a piece of the most orgasmic (and alcoholic) rum cake he has ever tasted. His face says as much, and Gabriel smirks.

 

When Sam looks up again, Gabriel is still staring, so Sam waves him over. “Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at me?” Sam asks. “Or anything better to stare at?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had anything better to stare at, Samsquatch, and anything better I had to do was done before you got here. It gets really slow this time of day.”

“Then do you wanna sit down?” Sam asks, and Gabriel does.

 

Despite the fact that Gabriel’s come-ons make Sam uncomfortable, he is actually really funny. Sam laughs, really laughs, for the first time since he had to leave Dean, and he never wants to stop. He finishes his food at three but he and Gabriel stay there, chatting and laughing. Eventually, Gabriel looks up at the clock and gets up, telling Sam not to go anywhere but that he needs to wipe the tables and counter again. That’s when Sam realizes it’s almost five o’clock. He wonders if he should go, but Gabriel said not to and he doesn’t have anywhere else to be anyway, so he stays put.

 

“So, Stretch, what are you planning to do when you ace your LSAT?” Gabriel asks, sitting back down at Sam’s table.

“I don’t know. I guess I’ll go out with some friends or something.”

“No family in the area?”

“No. I’m from Kansas, originally.”

“You’re a small town boy?”

“Living in a lonely world,” Sam nods.

“I’m from the city, myself. My brother and I moved to LA a few years ago, but he just got a job teaching physics at Stanford, so here I am: sitting in my very own bakery with a handsome guy. Lucky me.”

 

When the clock strikes midnight (well, five), Gabriel gets up again. “I have to return to post, but feel free to stay as long as you want.”

“I think it’s about time I go. Thank you for the awesome cake and the conversation.”

“Anytime, Kiddo. And let me know how you do on your LSAT, okay? I’m waiting on pins and needles.”

“You and me both,” Sam says, opening the door to the summer heat.

 

***

 

Sam goes in several times after that, first bringing his computer (to study for finals), then switching to books (again, the catalyst was a final, in this case an essay). Gabriel is surprisingly well-read; it seems like no matter what Sam brings in, Gabriel has something interesting to say about it, and Sam likes that it’s a gateway to conversation, even the small ones Gabriel stops by to have when the place is really crowded and he’s super-busy.

 

“ _The Importance of Being Ernest_ , eh? I’ve always had an affinity for Oscar Wilde. Maybe it’s that fabulously gay thing we’ve got going on,” he says as he pours Sam more coffee.

“Maybe you should respect playwrights on their ability to tell a story and tell it well?” Sam laughs.

Gabriel looks downright indignant. “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Now, if you’ll excuse me, man-who-judges-based-on-deeper-criteria-than-sexuality, I have work to do.” And he leaves. He doesn’t come back until six thirty, when the after-work crowd has mostly cleared out but the after-dinner crowd hasn’t come in yet. “So where are you?” He nods at the book.

“Jack and Algernon are away getting christened and Jack’s fiancée and Algernon’s fiancée are talking.”

“Ooh, the story unfolds,” Gabriel says, sitting down, and Sam puts the book down. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Besides when I come in here and you sit down, I have nothing better to do than read. You’re not interrupting.”

“Shit, kid, you’re gonna get my hopes up,” Gabriel mumbles, and Sam asks him to repeat it but he refuses.

 

“How’s your brother liking his new job?” Sam asks.

“He is really happy with it. It keeps him busy, so he has an excuse to never date or socialize or interact with humans that he’s not paid to or forced to because we’re family.”

Sam laughs. “Do you have any other siblings?”

Gabriel gets a bit awkward. “Yeah. I come from a pretty big family.”

“Oh really? How many?”

“I don’t know, a thousand? I really don’t want to talk about it.” Sam nods. “What about you? Any siblings?”

“I have an older brother, Dean. We used to be really close.”

“Not anymore?”

“When I decided to go to college, my dad and I got into it. He disowned me, and—while I half-expected Dean to follow me—I haven’t spoken to either of them since.”

“Jeez. I’m sorry, kid,” Gabriel says. “Who doesn’t want their kid to go to college—to _Stanford_?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common.”

 

***

 

The next Friday, two things happen. 1) Sam gets his LSAT score back, and 2) Sam’s friends Ash and Jo get engaged. He’s happy for them, he really is, but if he goes out with them, he won’t be able to celebrate his victory while it’s still fresh. He says his congratulations, tells them he isn’t feeling well, and goes to Gabriel’s.

 

When he gets there, the place is really crowded—it’s six o’clock on a Friday—and Sam can’t find a place to sit. He decides to stay anyway, going up to the counter, LSAT letter in-hand. Gabriel looks up and Sam hands him the paper.

“176?! Don’t they score these things out of 180?” Gabriel asks, and Sam nods. Gabriel comes from behind the counter to hug him. “Sam! This is awesome!”

 

Later in the day, when the shop is still busy but less so, Gabriel stops by Sam’s table. “Why aren’t you boozing it up now?”

“My friends got engaged today, so I didn’t really bother telling anyone that I’d gotten my scores back.”

“Well, I’m gonna have to take you out to celebrate.”

“You don’t have to. I’ll tell everyone tomorrow and everyone’ll get drunk two days in a row. My plan is flawless.”

“I don’t care. I’m gonna close up early and take you out to dinner. You need to celebrate.”

“I got something off the super-secret, just-for-adults menu. I’m okay.”

“Sammy, this is pathetic. You gotta—”

Sam, suddenly serious, interrupts. “Don’t call me Sammy.”

“Sammich?” Gabriel asks, not sure if it’s all nicknames or just that one.

“That’s fine; just don’t call me Sammy.”

“Duly noted,” Gabriel nods. “Anyway, you gotta do something special. Let me take you out.”

“Okay,” Sam relents.

“Great!” Gabriel goes to the door and turns the sign to “CLOSED.”

 

It’s eight before everyone leaves, but Sam waits. Gabriel tells his chef (the only employee) to do his usual cleaning and lock up—he’ll call his brother Castiel to close up the place—and leaves with Sam.

 

Every place in Palo Alto has at least an hour’s wait, it seems, and after the fifth place, Gabriel turns to Sam. “Would you be interested in just going to mine?” In the span of a few seconds, Sam reels and wonders if he _would_ be interested in just going to Gabriel’s, and Gabriel continues, “I can cook a better meal than we’ll get at any of these places anyway.”

Sam can’t tell if he’s relieved that Gabriel wants him in the kitchen instead of the bedroom, but he responds as nonchalantly as possible. “Why not? I’ve been interested to see what you can do besides sweets.”

“Oh, Sam, I can do so many things. Some of which involve sweets but not cooking,” Gabriel winks.

 

Gabriel unlocks the door and calls out. “Anyone here?”

“Isn’t Castiel supposed to be closing up at the shop? How many people live here?”

“I travelled a lot when I was in school, cooking around the world, and a lot of the friends I made will just show up when they please. Cas actually finds somewhere else to stay when that happens, usually, so I kinda feel bad about it.”

“Is he gonna be uncomfortable with me here?”

“It’s…complicated. Cas was teased a lot as a kid because he’s awkward and weird, so he likes to avoid people. Honestly, I was shocked when he said he was going to be a teacher, but you should see the way that boy speaks to his students. I think he chose this so he can express himself, when normally he’s so reserved,” Gabriel says. “But enough about my family! Make yourself at home, and I’ll get dinner ready.”

“Would you hate it if I helped?” Sam asks. “I know things will go way slower, but I’ve always wanted to learn to cook. I guess growing up in motels and the backseat of an old Impala will do that to you.”

“I would love for you to help, Sammich,” Gabriel says, and Sam notices a weird glint in Gabriel’s eye that he tries to ignore.

 

They end up cooking some sort of Mediterranean chicken dish that makes Sam actually moan when he first tries it. Gabriel looks at him sort of funny and Sam goes to apologize but Gabriel waves it off. Throughout the rest of the meal, they talk.

 

“So, what kind of lawyer do you want to be, kiddo?” Gabriel asks.

“Prosecuting attorney, preferably.”

“Really? Any reason?”

“We—” Sam sighs. “My mom was murdered when I was a baby, and my dad went crazy hunting the guy down. I guess, no matter what I say to the contrary, I’m still keeping with the family tradition.”

“In a more socially acceptable, sane way,” Gabriel laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“I often wonder about the second one.”

“I think we all wonder if we’re sane. Worrying we’re not normal is probably as normal as it gets.”

 

“The food is really good, Gabriel,” Sam says.

“I had excellent help, Samsquatch.”

Sam shakes his head. “This is all you. You’re amazing.”

“Well, I have been told that before. Admittedly, the situation was a bit different,” Gabriel says, pretending to be pensive.

Sam has always brushed him off when he’s flirted, so Gabriel is a bit surprised when Sam says, “I bet you have.”

Gabriel stares for a second before continuing on. “Maybe I can prove it to you sometime,” he winks.

“Maybe so.”

 

It’s ten o’clock when the door opens and Castiel comes in. “Cas, you’re home!” Gabriel calls.

“You made me close your store,” Castiel says, his voice growing closer. “You seem to have cooked to make up for it.” When he gets into the eat-in kitchen and sees Sam, Castiel says, “Or you brought your boyfriend home without telling me.”

“Oh, I should’ve called,” Gabriel says. “Thank you again for closing up for me.”

“I can just go,” Sam says. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Oh, Sam, please stay,” Gabriel says. “Cas, I promise we won’t bother you. You stay, too. And take some food. That crap you eat all day isn’t good for you.”

At the same time, Sam and Castiel say, “Says the man who owns a sweets shop.”

“Hey, no ganging up on Gabriel unless both of you are unrelated to me and naked.”

“You are disgusting,” Castiel says, scooping food onto a plate.

“It still sounds like a good idea,” Gabriel shrugs.

 

“Since Gabriel apparently has neither manners nor rules for what is appropriate to say to one’s brother, I will introduce myself. I am Castiel.”

Sam stands and extends his hand, which Castiel shakes. “Sam Winchester. You teach physics at Stanford, right?”

“I do,” Castiel says. “Gabriel speaks about me?”

“Sometimes. I’m just finishing pre-law at Stanford, too, so I asked around about you. Everyone who’s had you thinks you’re great.”

“You’re a college student?” Castiel asks. “You do realize that Gabriel is in his thirties, right?”

“Speaking of things that aren’t appropriate to say,” Gabriel says.

“He’s never told me how hold he is, but I didn’t guess that he was twenty-four,” Sam says.

“I could be twenty-four!” Gabriel protests.

“As long as you feel comfortable,” Castiel shrugs.

 

“Okay! How about we talk about something else?” Gabriel asks. “Cas, Sam got a 176 on his LSAT. We’re celebrating.”

“That’s very good, Sam. Congratulations,” Castiel says.

“Thanks,” Sam says.

 

Once Castiel goes to his room, Gabriel asks, “Do you want to stay a while? Watch a movie?”

“Sure,” Sam says, and they go into the living room.

 

About a quarter of the way through _The Mask of Zorro_ , Sam stretches, and it’s not one of those stupid “yawn and stretch” moves, but he does resituate his arm so that his elbow is on the back and his arm is bent between them, and that gets uncomfortable, so he moves it so that his whole arm is on the back of the couch behind Gabriel. He didn’t plan it, though; shut up. Besides, Gabriel doesn’t seem to mind. He just moves a little closer.

 

When the movie is over, Gabriel turns to Sam. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “If you don’t mind, that’d be great.”

“Or,” Gabriel pauses, “it’s kind of late, so you could just stay here.”

“I don’t think Castiel would appreciate it.”

“If it’s noise you’re worried about, he sleeps with music on, so he can’t hear anything.”

Sam pauses, furrows his brow. “What?”

“Oh, God. You’re not gay, are you?” Gabriel asks, beginning to panic.

“No,” Sam admits. “I didn’t—oh, wow. I’m so sorry. You’ve been serious this whole time.”

“Yeah, and you’ve been just playing along. Fuck! All the hot guys are straight. No, this isn’t even that! You’re hot and smart and sweet and—fuck!”

“I’ll just call a cab, okay? I’m really sorry. I thought you were just—” Sam says.

“Kidding, right. I’m never serious, but that’s never interfered with my flirting before,” Gabriel says. “Don’t worry about a cab. I’m gonna go hyperventilate in the bathroom for a minute and then I’ll drive you home.”

“No, it’s—”

“Please, Sam? Let me have this. For my dignity,” Gabriel says, “what little I have left after thirty-five years of making an ass of myself.”

“Okay,” Sam nods.

“Okay. I’ll be right back.”

 

“Gabriel? Should I get a hotel?” Castiel asks, upon seeing his brother enter.

“Not even close. He’s straight,” Gabriel says.

“What?”

“He thought I was joking!”

“You have to admit that you _do_ joke a lot. I often have trouble distinguishing when you’re joking and when you’re not.”

“I’ve been after this boy for weeks, and he didn’t know I was serious?” Gabriel asks. “The first thing I did—after commenting on his height—was call him hot.”

“Perhaps he thought you were serious but figured you were joking as he got to know you.”

 

“I’ve told him I’m gay,” Gabriel says.

“I am not the one you need to figure this out with,” Castiel says. Gabriel takes a deep breath and goes back into the living room.

 

“I’m really sorry, again. I’ve been leading you on,” Sam says.

“You knew I was gay,” Gabriel says.

“I thought you knew I was straight. I’ve had gay friends flirt with me before; no one’s ever meant anything by it.”

“Okay,” Gabriel says. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you home.”

 

Outside Sam’s apartment, “Is it appropriate to say I had fun tonight?” Sam asks.

“If you had fun, then that’s absolutely appropriate,” Gabriel says.

“I did,” Sam says. “I’m—”

“Please don’t apologize again.”

“I’ve never—thought about it, to be honest. I guess I’ve found guys attractive, but—”

“What are you getting at here, Sam?”

“I could—I don’t know—try? I really like you, and I’ve never flirted back before,” Sam says.

“I’m too damn old to be someone’s experimental phase, okay?” Gabriel strokes Sam’s cheek, “But I appreciate the thought.”

 

“Can I still come by the café?” Sam asks.

“I’m not breaking up with you, Sam,” Gabriel laughs. “But if you wouldn’t mind giving me a while, I’d appreciate it.”

Sam nods. “I should get inside.”

“Bye, Sam.”

 

Gabriel goes home and crawls in bed with Castiel. For his part, Castiel acts like it’s a totally normal thing to do and, if Gabriel cries a bit, Castiel doesn’t seem to notice.


End file.
